"Are we just going to watch them? Do we take those two crystals?" The black-haired girl sighed, her breath a thin wisp, and glanced at the boy beside her.

The boy pressed his lips. His brow folded like a drawn blade as he watched the two below.

"I didn’t expect it. He hid this deep." He let out a quiet breath, like a leaf settling, and shook his head.

The girl looked puzzled, a sparrow in sudden rain. "Eh? Your Holiness? Why say that?"

"Nothing. I ran into a foe stronger than I planned." He slipped off his white glove. It fell to the rooftop like a scrap of snow.

"El Engler." Battle-light rose in his gaze, dawn on steel.

"Didn’t think you’d reached this tier." He smiled toward a shadowed depth of the palace, like greeting a far peak.

"Oh? You want me to let them go? Do you know who those two are?" His eyes narrowed, knife-thin, and his face soured like bitter tea.

The black-haired girl shut her mouth, still water, and watched him.

Clearly, her Pope was speaking to the palace’s guardian spirit.

"Just because they helped you? Hm? I see. I wondered how you climbed this far. So that’s the road." He nodded, thoughtful, like counting beads.

His face stayed dark, a storm banked behind the hills.

"But you think I’m helpless now? My Church’s holy knights aren’t—" He stopped. His gaze sharpened, a hawk stooping.

"Very good, Engler. Didn’t expect you to know us so well. Planning to face us in the open?"

Below, Birand swaggered in with Ascaraun, steps loud as drums in an empty hall.

No guards stood nearby. The corridor felt hollow, a throat before the scream.

Ascaraun sensed something off, a frost-prickle. But Birand wasn’t one to gamble light. If he had confidence, worry was wasted wind.

This monster never listened to reason. Let him flow, like a river ignoring stones.

Birand eyed two wooden boxes and whistled, the note curling like smoke. "Nice, nice. The protection’s solid. Shame, though. In front of me it’s parlor tricks. Trapped chests were my favorite toy back in the day."

"My lord, so… you’re sure?" Ascaraun asked, unease fluttering like moth wings.

The place was too eerie. A sealed room, a few dozen square meters. Two stone pedestals. Two chests sleeping like beasts.

Nothing else. Not even a ripple of magic on the walls. Silence lay heavy, ash after flame.

Ascaraun’s head throbbed. These old monsters feared no maze of trouble.

One could imagine how many vicious mechanisms hid in those boxes, vipers in straw.

"How do we break it?" Ascaraun asked, breath snagging like a loose thread.

Birand shrugged, light as dust. "Why break anything?"

"Eh? But—"

"No buts. Just watch." Birand smiled, moon-sleek, and raised his left hand toward the nearest box.

The two crystals drifted out, clear as ice, floating like jellyfish in still water.

Ascaraun gaped. Birand popped them into his mouth, swallowing sparks in one clean motion.

"Tsk… All right, Ascaraun. Find me a quiet spot. Once I finish merging, we’ll go take back my body." Birand grinned, tiger-bright.

Ascaraun pointed at the boxes, then at Birand. His jaw hung open, comic as a carp.

"What? Move. Want to die waiting here?" Birand snapped, a twig breaking.

Ascaraun looked utterly done. "You just pulled them out like that?"

"How else?" Birand looked honestly puzzled, eyes clear as winter.

"They’re my soul crystals. At this range I called them. No trap forbids what belongs to itself. And I siphon through the soul. There’s no defense." Birand shrugged, easy as a breeze.

"Do you have to be this calm? This—this—" Ascaraun’s words tangled, wet rope in a knot.

Birand turned and bowed toward the palace depths, respectful as to an old pine. "Much obliged. May your business thrive and your days be smooth."

He grabbed Ascaraun’s sleeve. A heartbeat later, a teleportation array bloomed overhead like a silver lotus and swallowed them both.

Manstein’s eyes flared, storm-blue. "Trying to run!" He slashed a palm toward their fading trail, a windblade howling.

An elder in the palace tapped his cane. A shield of golden light unfolded, honey-thick sunlight, and caught Manstein’s strike.

"Old fool! You sure you want to stand against me?"

"Steady, Manstein. We’ll fight, sooner or later. But not today. You think so too, don’t you?" the elder said, voice calm as deep water.

"You—"

"The Elf Race front grows messy. Every race wants in. You won’t waste this window, will you? Or do you want to clash with my royal house now, tear the strongest human empire into civil strife, and pull mankind from this war?"

He paused, then continued, words like slow bells. "Slip once, and even Holy Paris may turn into a new arena of slaughter. Do you… desire that?"

"You!" Manstein’s elegance shattered. Cold pooled around him like winter shade.

He squinted. "Old thing. I don’t want that. Nor do you. Right?"

"Indeed, my old friend." The elder chuckled, a dry leaf laugh.

"Letting those two go better not bite you. Or else—"

"I don’t need your reminder." The elder spoke airy, clouds over peaks.

"Hmph."

…

"Hey, Era. I want to go back." Reni sighed and sat on a stone, drawing circles with her toe, ripples in dust.

Era’s face stayed dark, thunder tucked behind her eyes.

Her people’s decision felt unwise, a weight like wet linen.

…

"Today’s Demon Race is thin and frail. Why should we seek shelter under them?"

…

"Oh? Then announce our resurrection loud, seize land by force? Use your head, Elissa. Most things aren’t solved by bluster."

…

"Besides, we barely understand the outside world now. Almost nothing. In that fog, any decision is too soon."

"Better than bowing to the weak like cowards."

…

"So the Elf Race that imprisoned us is skirmishing the Beastkin, once allied neighbors?" Nofir smiled, the curve sharp as a sickle.

"Yes."

"No wonder the blood-scent is so thick, iron rain. I thought it was—" Nofir mused.

"That means we Fallen Angels can join in as well."

…

"So our final path is to grow on our own. No more yielding to the Demon Race like before," Era said, voice a low drum.

…

"Don’t sink so deep. Nothing catastrophic yet. Above us, on land, Beastkin and elves are at war. That blood-swell will feed us. It’ll mend the power we Fallen Angels lost."

"…Let’s hope." Era’s words drifted, pale smoke.

Nofir smiled. "Relax. Your seal might break by riding that tide. Then you can lead any who wish to leave you to the Demon Race. If they rise again someday, you’ll still have a home."

…

If those two monsters were angered, the Fallen Angels might face extinction again. The thought crept cold, frost along bone.

Era sighed. "No choice. Back then, I was too close to the Celestial Realm. The Hero’s Sword of Oblivion hit me hard. My strength fell to this. I can’t command the clan anymore."

Reni cupped her cheeks, wistful as dusk. "Sigh… If Fallen Angels hold that stance toward us, the Demon Race, will other races feel the same?"

"…Hard to say if any race stands apart." Era breathed out, hope thinning like rain.

"True. The Sirenfolk suffered worst. The Hero freed the seas first. With endless ocean at his back, he hit us like a storm. We were caught off guard." Reni said, gaze misted.

Era nodded, then froze, as if a snowflake stung.

She looked at Reni with a thread of confusion. "Reni, when were you born into the Demon Race?"

Reni tilted her head. She thought for a moment, time ticking like drops. "About five years after the Demonic Lord died."

"Then how do you know the mid-war situation? That was when the Demon King and the Hero clashed at their peak. You—" Era stared, startled, a bird flushed from grass.

Reni went blank. She thought, a small furrow like a creek. "But… those things are in my head."

Era narrowed her eyes, moon-slit.

Reni’s mouth moved strangely more and more. She drifted into sudden sleep at times, a candle guttering.

What was happening?

Era set a hand on Reni’s forehead, cool as spring water. "Reni, relax. I’ll check."

"Okay…" Reni nodded, obedient as a young deer.

Era’s soul-sense flowed from her hand into Reni’s mind, a ribbon of light sliding into night.

She searched for anomalies, lantern by lantern.

Everything checked out, pristine as a polished mirror.

Era frowned and poured in more sense, current stronger, a river in flood.

Both of them winced, brows tight as bowstrings.

At Reni’s mind core, Era found a black energy mass. It pulsed slowly, releasing a power that made her heart quake, thunder behind silk.

"What is… this?" Era froze, breath caught.

It felt a touch like the Angels’ essence. Not only Fallen Angels.

All Angels. Even those of the Celestial Realm.

"Could it be…" Era’s thoughts jumped, a fearful guess sprouting like a thorn.

If true, she had to make her people change course. Otherwise, before those two beings moved, the Demon Race might sweep them all like a net.

"Era, what’s going on?" Reni shook her head. A faint dizziness spun, a falling leaf.

"…Reni. Do you know what a Fiend is?"

"Huh? Isn’t that us… the Demon Race?"

"No… far from it." Era sighed, voice heavy, a ridge under cloud.

What should she do? The question hung dark, a raven over snow.